Fear
by volant au-dessus
Summary: Rose hasn't been eating. Again. And the perfect, unruffled, uncaring Scorpius Malfoy is downright scared.  Please review! I've gotten a ton of hits but only 2 reviews!
1. Prologue: Fear

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rose or Scorpius. All kudos goes to the magnificent J.K. Rowling **

Cascades of fiery red hair wrap around her head, soft and untouchable. Her freckles are spattered like perfect globs of paints on her porcelain face. Cheekbones stick out, stark against the pale magnificence of her skin.

Her hair billows everywhere, covering her pillows and obscuring her eyes, but if you looked closer you would see them, the twin oceans frostbitten in the center and speckled with fractures of sunny gold.

But Scorpius isn't looking at her hair or her freckles. Or even trying to peek into her hidden eyes.

Scorpius sees her bones sticking out too far against her skin and the meaning of the whole thing, of the beautiful but dangerous state her cheeks are in.

Because they're "pretty " or "mysterious" now, but soon they will only be gaunt.

Because Rose won't eat again.

The troubled boy reaches for his forehead, rustling the platinum blond hair prickling there. Messy and unkempt, because of this girl in front of him.

Because Scorpius is afraid.

**(A/N I know this prologue only causes more questions. I need reviews to see if you guys like this idea or think it is stupid)**


	2. Hurt

**So this story got like 50 hits and one great review from Pattie. Thank you Pattie **** and this is definitely the plan, to write really soon.**

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling so therefore I don't own Scorpius, Rose, or any other Harry Potter characters of coolness. **

It all started with a remark.

Just one.

Her feet glided down the hall, tapping softly on the stones. Her red hair swayed behind her, back and forth. Back and forth. Hypnotizing.

How couldn't he notice? How couldn't Scorpius stop and stare? Except well, he was Scorpius Malfoy. He didn't stare; he observed sneakily without anyone noticing.

Funny how he never _noticed_ anyone but her.

Today, he wished he hadn't noticed her so much.

She was walking down the hallway, just walking. The girl was the most beautiful human that Scorpius had ever seen, but you wouldn't have known.

He hurt her first.

"Hey Rosie," suddenly his eyes weren't warm, they were hard as flint.

She smiled tentatively, shy but at the same time so trusting. "Scorpius."

Condescendingly, he looked down at her outfit, "Where are you going, Rosie?"

Her cheeks flooded with red, making her eyes shine all the more. "Date," she mumbled.

His smile was fake, oh so fake, but no one could see. "Wow, you should've chosen your outfit more carefully. You look like an elephant."

The dumbest, most untrue insult he could ever come up with. What was she thinking?

"Well," her cheeks were redder, more beautiful, but her eyes shone sadly. "Bye then, Scorpius."

She didn't even stand up for herself because Rose was too innocent. Because Rose cared too much about what other people thought.

She no longer swayed down the hallway; shoulders bent and hand covering eyes, she fled.

Why had he done it? Why had he hurt her?

Because he loved her and she didn't even look at him.

Because she was too perfect for him and needed to be damaged to ever love him.

Because Scorpius was just plain stupid.

Looking down at his books, pretending that his Transfiguration books was the sole object of attention, he walked to the Great Hall, under the golden arch spiraled over him and to the Slytherin table. Throwing himself heavily onto the wooden bench, he sighed. Scorpius' bench creaked as he reached for some chicken.

What was he going to do during lunch now? Scorpius usually watched Rose, watched her being happy because it made him feel happy. Scorpius didn't have many friends; really, he had one: Albus Potter. But he had a feeling that Albus wouldn't want to sit with him today, because Rose was sitting next to him, crying.

Her eyes were ringed with red streaks, dramatic against the blue. Why had she taken it that way? It was a stupid thing to say; it meant nothing. Albus' dark brown hair stuck up crazily as he ran his left hand through it; his right hand awkwardly patted Rose on the back as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Scorpius watched, horrified. He couldn't apologize; because it would make it look like he cared and that would ruin him.

Because Scorpius cared too much about what people thought about him.

Rose pushed mashed potatoes and vegetables around her plate. She didn't eat a single bite.

**(A/N Good? Bad? Tell me ****)**


	3. Lies

**Here it is **

**Disclaimer: it's all Rowling's, my friends.**

Scorpius was worrying about Rose. She hadn't eaten lunch or dinner. He feels like his stomach is knotting itself; it was only a stupid insult. Rose was beautiful and he _loved_ her. How could she even let something like that affect her?

Not that he had ever told her that he loved her.

Staring at his perfect, shiny shoes, he climbed the stairs. Stone paver after stone paver passed by; he was on auto drive.

Behind a faux brick tapestry, a little wooden door. The dark wood shone, bare without a hand or a crack.

Scorpius mumbled to the door. "Puddlemere United."

The door swung inwards silently. The floor was the same gray stone that he loved about Hogwarts. One gold wall had a black outline of a lion roaring into the light yellow sun from the window; the black wall had a golden outline of a snake transfixed in the gaze of all who entered.

The coaches were gold too with elegant mahogany legs.

Red and green pillows were everywhere.

He always thought it looked like some weird Christmas room.

Scorpius threw himself onto the couch closest to the fireplace. Reaching into it, he fumbled with the logs, throwing old pieces of parchment into the fireplace. Briskly, he hit together flint, creating a shower of sparks to ignite the wood. Scorpius felt better with a task; he felt like he wasn't some worthless boy who had once again hurt Rose's feelings.

He sat on the couch, tucking his feet under him, to wait.

It was an hour later when he heard a soft voice from the entrance. Scorpius' piercing eyes anxiously watched as she entered.

Her blue eyes opened wide, uncomfortable. Her hand gripped one of the stonewalls, the white ovals of her nails elegantly tapping.

"Hi," her voice trembled a little, "what's up?"

What should he say? Should he apologize?

"Hey," he was expressionless, "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah," she tried to smile, "I'm fine."

And then she tried to bolt up the stairs.

Scorpius was faster.

"Rose!" She turned slowly from the top of the stairs.

"Yes?"

"Rose…" he swallowed, hard, "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, it's fine." But Scorpius could see through that, she was lying.

He had to give it another try. "Do you want something to eat?"  
Scorpius walked over to the little silver mini-fridge, an object of his extreme pride. "I have sandwiches _and_ salads." He waved tantalizingly at the open door stacked with colorful fruits mingled with fried foods.

Rose tried to smile again, failing miserably. Her eyes gave everything away.

"I'm really full from dinner, but thanks." She hurried into her room, closing the door fast.

Liar.

"Goodnight," she yelled through the door.

"Goodnight, Rosie." Scorpius replied, mind already spinning in disbelief.

**(A/N Setting the stage)**


	4. Reflections

**This is a week after the last chapter. Rose still hasn't gotten over Scorpius' insult. This is going to be a longer chapter; I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is boss and owns/pwns it all **

Pale bamboo spotter with dark dots framed a mirror silvery in the light of the night. Rose's long, elegant fingers prodded the pale peach skin on her stomach, pinching it in places.

Pink full lips pursed together in a line as she examined herself for any sign of the fat Scorpius had made fun of her for. Rose turned her hip; the delicate bone pushed against the skin, sliding slowly into place. She arched her back, taking in the spindle of a spine, spurs of bone and skin tight against them. She grasped the back of her hips, picking up nothing but all the same.

Rose felt fat.

She pulled down the soft hem of her pink shirt, wrinkled from use. Padding softly and slowly, Rose crept to the bathroom. One foot placed on the white marble doorstep, she paused, glancing around to make sure it was empty.

Once assured, Rose moved to the little scale in the corner of the room; she moved as if magnetized, allured by the tiny device. Her delicate feet looked forlorn and small against the expanse of marble and when she stepped on the scale, even more so.

The chrome shone white in the moon, reflecting light and also two digits. The two digits shone up at Rose mockingly.

97

But Rose still felt fat.

Scorpius hadn't been sleeping.

The hunter green hangings swathed over his bed looked dusty in the moonlight as he stared at them, willing himself into unconsciousness. A few loose threads wound around each other looked like cobwebs in the silver light

A soft squeak came from the bathroom as he rubber holding the scale in place moved. That dumb scale looked so out of place in the marble bathroom, abruptly modern in a sea of classic, although old-fashioned, perfection. Rose had insisted though.

Blond hair ruffled, arched in light, and shirtless, Scorpius knocked on the ghostly white door softly, as to not disturb the unearthly night.

"Rose?" he whispered, leaning against the door to hear her better.

Rose jumped and fell backwards with a squeal seconded by the screech emitted from the towel hanger pulled from the wall as she tried to catch herself. Failing, she fell to the floor, sprawled and stunned.

"Are you okay?" Scorpius knelt to the floor, red plaid cloth pants spreading around him blood red on the marble.

Rose chuckled, deeming his question unworthy of response. "I didn't know you wore pajama pants." At least she could form a sentence, hopefully that means she didn't hit her head or anything.

Scorpius repeated his question, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," ocean eyes met the unusually soft gray ones. "I'm fine."

Then why did he feel like she was lying? Unnerved, Scorpius wrapped his arms around Rose and lifted her up. As he rose, he glanced at the scale for a second as the digits disappeared. They didn't disappear fast enough.

97

Scorpius' eyes flashed darkly.

"What were you doing up?" He demanded.

Rose, confused and scared at his spinning emotions, said, "Nothing, just couldn't sleep."

Liar.

He could read her like an open book.

Rose hadn't eaten anything today.

But she was scared, and Scorpius hated it when she was afraid. He laid her down on the soft red bed, patterned with golden roses, and tucked her in.

Rose didn't know what to make of this new Scorpius.

Scorpius didn't know what to make of his inexorable need to protect her.

He closed the door softly.

"Goodnight, Rose."

"Goodnight, Scorpius."

But neither of them slept.


End file.
